First Steps
by Blancwene
Summary: Luke and Mara take their first steps towards something more than friendship.
1. The Point of No Return

This was originally intended as a happy L/M viggie to make Emmi happy (*pointed look*), but it's evolved into a 7-part series.

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First Steps

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Part 1-

The Point of No Return

You couldn't really call it a tradition, for Luke and I weren't carrying on some generations-long custom.  Careful planning, or extensive research into Coruscantian seating arrangements didn't achieve it.  It was an accident.  Plain and simple.  And I hate to say it, but Threkim Horm's to blame.

I guess fat, irritating politicians do have their uses.

You see, whenever I happened to be nearby the Imperial Palace I liked to stop by the cafeteria for a bite to eat.  The New Republic has accomplished some amazing feats, but I'd say their greatest achievement has been the improved food.  During the Emperor's reign, the gruel was…well, grueling to consume.  It took a stomach of durasteel to digest that spittle.  With superweapons constantly in development, some budget cuts had to be made.

But this rebel chow is excellent.  Satisfying, flavorful, and probably even nutritious if I checked into it.  I'd head in, grab myself a plate of unpronounceable entrées, then ponder Smuggler's Alliance business over a hot meal.

Somehow, Skywalker found out about my habit and always managed to miraculously "appear" right when I sat down with my lunch.  I don't know how he did it; Jedi should not have enough free time to mastermind elaborate schemes and impromptu meetings.  But he did, and every time I entered the room there he was, sitting at a table, a stupid grin plastered across his face as he waved me towards an empty seat.

It was sort of cute in a juvenile, bored-out-of-my-mind way.  Not a big masculine turn-on, but then again, Luke's not one of those macho men.

I wouldn't speak to him if he were.

Safe, easy, risk-free; I'd take my place across from Luke and we'd discuss anything from Smuggler's Alliance news to whether lightsabers have fuses.  He claimed that they didn't, basing his knowledge on the fact that he'd constructed one himself; I didn't agree.  Lightsabers are delicate instruments, like molecular stilettos, which have fuses.  I think.  Luke laughed it off as circular reasoning, but when I didn't show up for several days he rather sheepishly sent me a message that I was correct.  Our arguments usually ended that way.

It continued like that for a while- several months, or so.  We had our spats, which tended to be quite frequent, but our friendship was never affected.  I guess we realized that who knows more about the lifespan of garrals just isn't that important in the big picture.

I was happy with this arrangement.  Everything was so smooth…until Threkim Horm screwed up my routine.  I was heading towards the table, smiling at how Luke's new haircut drew attention to his eyes, when the Alderaanian swerved in front of me and parked his hoverchair right in my spot.  Luke looked a little peevish, but nowhere near as angry as I felt.  Didn't that huge lumbering imbecile know anything?  That was my seat, for the Force's sake.  He wasn't allowed to just plow his way past paying customers and steal reserved places.

Luke shrugged apologetically, and gestured to show me that his table was full.  I glared at Horm with my best "personal servant of the Emperor" stare and trudged off in search of an isolated chair.  If I couldn't sit by a friend, I would not be willing to plop myself down next to a total stranger who wanted to discuss the weather.  Besides, I've usually found that such situations either lead to awkwardly worded pickup lines if my neighbor is male (Calrissian…) or hostile looks if female.  I've never been one to act friendly around new acquaintances, anyway.  Particularly puffed-up government workers.

So there I was, wandering aimlessly in a crowded cafeteria, when I spotted a vacant seat at Luke's table.  There was just one slight problem: it was next to him.

Not across from, not diagonal to, but directly beside him.  I'd never done that before, eaten lunch on his right-hand side.  Did I really want to get that close?  My normal place was cautious, near enough for conversation by far enough that I could leave without a second's delay.

If I sat there, we would almost be touching.

I turned, scanned the hall for safer seating; nothing.  My only choices were to remain standing and thus snub the poor man or sit next to him and face the consequences.

It's amazing how little things can frighten me so much.  I fought down the urge to kill Luke, and I defeated C'baoth and that creepy clone.  And yet I couldn't pick a place to eat without my nerves turning to liquid and my hands shaking.

Courage, Mara.  No sweat.

I glanced around one last time, then took a tentative step towards that empty seat.  Luke was watching me, and I swear he was hiding amusement behind that deadpan expression.  Oh, he was perfectly composed, but his eyes were twinkling.  He had to be laughing inside.

I squared my shoulders and took another step.  This was not difficult.  _Keep on walking_, I told myself as I strode across the tiled floor.  Just a few more meters, and my journey would be complete.

I sank into the chair, and set my tray down with a loud clank.  My emotions were tangled in a big confusing knot, but despite all my nervousness I felt relieved.  I'd crossed the point of no return- and nothing had changed.  Though perhaps, that little wall I'd built up between us had begun to crumble- just a little.  I wasn't ready to tear it down yet.

Luke leaned forward, his head almost brushing against mine as he bent to whisper in my ear.  I shut my eyes, and couldn't help smiling.

Perhaps Luke and I are meant for something more.


	2. On Distant Shores

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Several months earlier...

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On Distant Shores

  
"Mara, I've never seen you dance before."

I threw Luke a glare. We were stuck in an uncomfortable situation, and he certainly wasn't making it any more relaxing. I would have never chosen to board that turbolift with him if I'd have known that we'd have a bomb drill halfway up to the thirty-fourth floor. It's not that Luke was a dull companion. But after a few minutes of polite chitchat, our conversation had petered off into silence. Even after all we'd been through together, I just didn't feel right with him. In a group, such confrontations were no sweat, so long as I had a way to get away if the talk turned to touchy subjects. Here, I felt trapped. The lift was large, true- about 6 X 6 meters- but there was no escape route. The doors were locked shut, and I was stuck. With him.

I scooted a little more securely into my corner. As soon as we realized that we might be in here a while, we instantly scattered to separate areas. I was reclining serenely near the emergency comlink; Luke had picked the opposite side. His childlike position- knees pulled against his chest, arms wrapped tightly around his legs- seemed to impart a sense of fear, but he gave off an aura of alertness. Nothing was going to catch him by surprise.

"Well, there's a reason why. I haven't practiced in at least two years. I don't want to make a fool of myself."

He leaned forward, and rested his chin against his knees. His eyes were so blue- so light and perfect- that they disgusted me. I know it's not his fault that he was born with gorgeous eyes; but did he have to fix them on me with such an irritatingly pleading expression? If he hadn't been five meters away I would have socked him.

"Please, Mara, could you-"

"Could I what, Skywalker? You never finish your sentences."

I popped my back and groaned. We weren't far from each other, but it might as well have been a galaxy-wide chasm. We were on two remote shores: the naïve young Jedi and the cynical ex-Emperor's Hand. Our common experiences had done nothing to draw us together, only to force us more apart. I still felt like he barely knew me.

Luke scooted a few centimeters towards me and smiled. "Could you dance? You don't have to, but since we've nothing else to do it can't be that hard."

I snorted. It was an involuntary action- I would never have done that purposefully. Could you imagine the talk it would have raised in public? Mara Jade, cold as ice, snorting like a schoolboy. But I did. And if anything, it helped to loosen up a little of the unpleasant tension bearing down on me. "I can't just dance. It takes preparation and thought. Concentration. I can't choreograph something on the spur of the moment."

"Please, Mara?"

"Skywalker, you remember when Solo did the Corellian rumba at that reception? You think that was bad? And he was under the influence of a large quantity of alcohol. I'm not doing anything."

He kept on smiling, and I think it was those big azure orbs that did me in. No matter how awful my performance might be, I had nothing to worry. Luke would never tell others, and I knew that his compliments would not be forced.

"Mara, I promise I won't say a word."

"Fine. But not out a single comment out of your mouth until I'm done, or I'll make _you_ dance."

I did a few stretches and leg warm-ups. Not many, mind you- I valued my respectability more than my muscle suppleness. I knew that I was probably risking a torn ligament, but I was nervous. I can't explain it any other way. I'd danced with no qualms on undercover missions before, in front of audiences a lot more demanding than Luke. He wouldn't blow me away with a slugthrower if I didn't do ten fouettés.

I admit it- I wasn't just a little tense. I was frightened. Now that I'd agreed to dance, my mind was empty of everything I'd ever been taught. What the hell was an arabesque, any way? And there was an odd humming in my ears that persisted in drowning out the "comforting" music playing over the general speakers. Not that those slow, emotionless, muddled melodies would have helped much.

I glanced at Luke again. His face was raised towards me, radiating calmness and tranquility. Why fret over the insignificant? Luke Skywalker, savior of the universe, wanted to see me dance. It was flattering. We were separated by the unbridgeable gap of propriety; I couldn't restrain myself anymore. Courtesy be damned, I was going to show off.

I shut my eyes, and listened. Shrill horns droned in the ancient track, my pulse reverberated in the side of my neck, the pounding of a bottom-heavy cleaning droid sounded somewhere above the ceiling. It throbbed desperately, synchronizing with the adrenaline-enhanced beat of my heart.

_Left foot forward, gentle sweep of the hands. A modified second position movement with the arms. Leap to the right, turn swiftly, drop into a bent knee stance. Spin onto the other knee; continue the motion while rising upright. Pirouette. Lift arms to graceful position above the head._

I paused to steady my breath, and fluttered my hands slowly. Too classical for my tastes. I erased Luke and ballet terms and ancient guidelines out of my mind. The rhythm thumped louder in my skin, my blood, my soul. I was making myself happy. That was all that mattered.

I swayed my hips, twisting and circling in time to the rhythm of my spirit. Spinning, jumping, falling, undulating- I was no longer aware of my footing or whether I was curving my arms properly. The dance was a part of me- it was me. There were imperfections and mistakes; I bumped a wall during one turn, and my breathing was not always corresponding to my movements. But strangely, I felt released- uncaged.

It wasn't true freedom. This was entirely different from the peace I'd felt on Mt. Tantiss. But it was still liberating, to open myself to the music inside and express it through my body.

Several seconds passed before I became conscious that I had finished. Pulling wet tendrils from my face, I slipped out of my slightly cross-legged ending position and looked into Luke's eyes, unsure of what I'd find. They brimmed with acceptance, satisfaction, and pride.

I blushed…a little. It wasn't much more than a slight reddening of my cheeks, but that was enough to turn his smile into a grin.

"That was incredible."

I sat down closer to him. We were still divided, but there was something between us, a common bond that we had both shared. I wasn't ready to let him get any more brilliant ideas, though.

"Oh, shut up, Skywalker."


End file.
